


I'll Do Better

by ScreamsInKFC



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Existential Crisis, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I mean the tower was built for a reason, I would never, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, There's a lot of crying, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Why Did I Write This?, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), because i need angst probably, but he was kinda playin favorite a little, except phil is making efforts to be better now, im not about to cry, im sorry if i make you cry, just crisis in general, oh and tommy says "fuck" a lot near the end so there's that, this is pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamsInKFC/pseuds/ScreamsInKFC
Summary: Tommy is driven to the edge. He builds his tower out of all of the materials that he still has left, reaching above the clouds. He stares down at the destruction that he'd created in Logstedshire. At the giant crater left behind from the TNT. He wasn't planning to come down. He wasn't intending to survive this one. He doesn't WANT to survive this one. And, why should he? He has nothing left--his home is destroyed, his illusion of Dream is destroyed, and nobody seems to care about him anymore. He's truly, painstakingly alone.But, somebody shows up.Somebody, who he'd believed had long abandoned him, provides him the comfort he's needed ever since war first plagued the lands of the Dream SMP.And it's enough.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 257





	I'll Do Better

High above the fluffy clouds floating above the landscape, a sky-scraping, thin tower of dirt, wood, and cobble stone stood. On the very top of that tower sat a young boy dressed in singed rags. The boy--Tommy--dangled his burnt and bruised legs carelessly off the edge of the tower. Heavy tears poured down his dirty cheeks, leaving their trail in their wake as they dripped off of his chin. The relentless wind of the space above the white blanket below him tugged him around in every direction, the cold of the breeze piercing him, but he didn't feel a thing. He couldn't feel anything over the shattering of the image of what little remained of his life. He both felt numb and so, _so_ broken. 

As he stared down at the ground far below, at the crater that was left in the wake of the destruction that ~~Dream~~ he had brought upon Logstedshire, he couldn't help but replay the image of everything he'd worked so _hard_ to build up for himself exploding before his very eyes. And each time he replayed it, he couldn't help but be transported back to the many explosions in L'manberg. He couldn't help but replay _everything_ that had gone wrong so, so drastically.

When Dream had stolen his discs,

When the first war arose, 

When L'manberg had been blown up by Dream,

When Eret had betrayed L'manberg--betrayed _him_ to get power,

When he and Wilbur had been exiled by Schlatt,

When Wilbur had begun to go insane, 

When L'manberg had been blown up by Wilbur,

When his own--no, _their_ own--father killed Wilbur,

When his last brother had brought forth the further destruction of L'manberg,

When Tubbo-- _his_ Tubbo--had exiled him,

When Dream killed Mexican Dream,

When Logstedshire had been blown up by…

**_“How about you get in the hole, Tommy?”_ **

Tommy shut his eyes tightly, still feeling salty liquids creeping out and falling down. Everything had gone so wrong, and it was all his fault. If he hadn't been so selfish about the discs, nothing would've gone wrong. And, even if something _did_ go wrong, it wouldn't have ended _nearly_ as badly as this. A pained, long-awaited sob dragged itself from his throat.

Even if everything else had happened, the destruction of Logstedshire could've been avoided. If he had just not made that room, he wouldn't be here right now. If he had just _listened_ to Dream, he wouldn't be in this situation. He would still have a place to sleep, even if it was incredibly cold and uncomfortable. He would still have the will to keep on going, even if it was just the smallest part of him begging him to continue to live. And, most importantly, Dream would still be his friend. 

Though, was Dream ever really his friend to begin with? 

Tommy had fought two different wars against the guy, burned down his friend’s house, and constantly resisted his power. Why would Dream _ever_ want to be friends with someone like _him?_ Why would he suddenly want to be Tommy’s friend as soon as he got exiled? 

Maybe it was all a façade. A way to get Tommy onto Dream’s side. A way to finally gain control of the uncontrollable. The only one who would still go against him.

The mere thought of that crushed Tommy even more. Now that he thought about it, it made _sense_ , and he _hated_ it. He hated the idea that all this time, over the _months_ that he’d been exiled and alone, he was only being _used_ by Dream.

He just couldn’t get a break, could he?

Not that he deserved one, anyway.

Tommy buried his tear-stained face into his dirtied hands, allowing himself to break down where he sat alone on his tower. Always alone. “Forever alone,” one might say. 

God, he just wanted this to end. He just wanted to jump. To end all of his plights with a single push of his arms, or a kick of his legs. To finally be free. To finally be at peace.

The broken boy pushed himself up so that he was standing. He gazed out at the cloudy horizon, watching how the sun lit up the large white puffs with soft tones of purple, pink, orange, red, and yellow. It really was beautiful, he had to admit. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the scenery of the cloudscape with even the smallest of smiles. At least he would pass on with this calm image in mind. 

He hovered one foot over the edge of the dirt he now stood on, taking a deep breath.

“What are you doing?”

He gasped. He knew that voice. He knew that voice all too well. Tommy’s watery eyes widened as he, slowly, retracted his foot until he stood properly again. He could hear a gentle flapping of wings behind him--something he had not noticed until now.

 _No_ , is it...?

The teenager shakily turned around, terrified to see if his suspicions were correct. He hoped to God that they weren’t. He didn’t need that person to see him--not like this.

He came face-to-face with his father. With Philza.

The person who had always told him he would never leave. The person who would, along with Wilbur, always comfort him. The person he had neither properly seen nor interacted with in the past few years.

The man was floating in front of him, his elegant gray wings extended and slowly beating. He was dressed in warm-looking, frosty-blue-and-white clothes. He still wore his bucket hat, but it was the same color at the rest of his garments instead of the familiar green-and-white color scheme. His face held a look of what Tommy interpreted as disappointment, which was understandable, and… worry? Wait, was that panic?

Tommy quickly wiped away his tears, but his body refused to cooperate with his mind and they kept on pouring anyway. He opened his mouth as he rapidly searched for an excuse as to why he could be up here, all alone and crying. He knew it was painfully obvious, what he was planning to do, but he could still bullshit his way out of this one, right? He’s done it many times before--albeit in dramatically different situations that he now found himself in--and he can do it again.

“I-I, uh--h-hey, Phil,” he greeted the older man, silently cursing himself for how he spoke.

“Hey.”

He gulped, watching Phil’s expression carefully as he brought his arms up close to him. Close to the compass that he’d hung around his neck. Close to his Tubbo compass. He wasn’t prepared to do this.

“I was just, uh--I was building my tower! Y-Yeah, my tower! My new-and-improved Power Tower!” Tommy rambled, trying his best to cover the shakiness in his voice and the fewer tears that still leaked from his tired eyes with a rather weak air of confidence.

A sigh, followed by a sad look was given to him in response to his lie. Phil drifted closer to Tommy, who felt dread take the form of a weird type of nausea. 

“...Tommy,” the hybrid started, making sure to maintain eye contact with the teenager as he continued, “we both know that’s bullshit.”

Tommy stayed silent, dragging his gaze away from his father and down toward his feet as his breathing picked up. He inspected the damage done to his remaining shoe and his bare foot intently, just wanting Phil to go away.

…

Did he though?

“I--Tommy… I feel like I already know the answer, but… are you--” Phil cut himself off, groaning in a distressed, pained way, “...are you trying to… kill yourself?”

Somehow, that question prompted a rise in an intense, festering bitterness in Tommy. It was strong and sudden enough to quell the dread and sadness and hopelessly that had been plaguing him. 

“Maybe I am,” Tommy snapped, his storm of emotions making itself present in his suddenly not-so-shaky voice. “But, even if I am trying to end it all, why would you care?”

The outburst caught Phil off-guard. He could tell by the way the older man stiffened and widened his eyes. Before he had a chance to respond, Tommy continued with his current line of thought.

“It’s a serious question, Phil. Why would you care if I were to jump right this very instant? I mean, you fucking _killed_ Wil! Sure, he was fucking begging for you to do it, _but you still did it_ . Why-- why would you care if I died, especially if that was something you could fucking do?” he ranted, his bitterness slowly giving way to pain as his voice cracked, tears gathering in his eyes once again. “You le-left me alone for _years_ , Phil! You weren’t there when I _n-needed_ you, so why should I think that you would still care? I _know_ you had time to visit me, t-to at least make sure I was _okay_ , but you left me alone for Techno. Did you ever even care about me at all? I know nobody else does, but have you just been faking it th-this _whole time_?”

By this point, Tommy had collapsed to his knees on the very narrow surface of his tower, holding his head in his hands in an attempt to hide the tears that very obviously flooded from his eyes and dripped through his finger and down his chin. By this point, Philza had settled carefully next to him, keeping him in a gentle embrace and holding Tommy’s head against his chest as the teen broke down. His expression was a mixture of pain, sorrow, and horror as he quietly murmured soothing words to his son, carding his fingers through messy blonde hair. His eyes were glazed with tears that he fought to keep in as he listened to the rambling. He knew he’d messed up. Badly. 

“T-Toms, of _course_ I care about you. I care about you so, so much, sweetie,” he assured Tommy, hugging him tighter.

“Ph-il, I--Dad, I-I _needed_ you, and you weren’t _there_ ,” Tommy sobbed, his words slurring as he choked on them. He sounded so _broken_. How had Phil let this happen?

“I know, I know, and I’m so sorry for that, but I’m here now. I’m here now, and I’m never going to leave you. I promise. I’m never going to leave you alone, Tommy. Never again. I swear.” 

It was at those words that Tommy wrapped his arms around Phil tightly, holding onto him as though he would disappear at any moment--which, given his current mindset, was completely fair. He felt his son’s tears soak into his shirt now that his hands were no longer covering his face. The teenager trembled like a leaf in his arms as he released everything he’d been keeping inside for far too long. It broke Phil’s heart to see his son like this. To know that he had a role to play in his deterioration. 

“H-How do I--how do I k-know that you wo-n’t j-just ab-bandon me ’fur Techno again?” 

The older man sighed shakily, pressing his forehead against Tommy’s matted hair as he answered: “I know I haven’t been around for you much, and I’m so, so, so sorry for that. For whatever reason, I thought that you and Wil would be fine on your own, and I was so wrong. I should’ve known to make sure you were both truly ready, and I should’ve visited more often--especially during both of your exiles--and I’m so sorry that I didn’t. I know that I haven’t been the best father for those reasons, but I want you to know that I’ll do better. I’ll do better to make sure that you’re always doing the best that you can be. I’ll do better to make sure that you know that you’re loved. I’ll do better to always be there for you, Toms. I’m so sorry about everything, and you can blame me. That’s completely fine. I’m just--I’ll do better. I promise, Tommy.”

Tommy hugged him tighter, curling more into the comfort Phil provided for him. “T-Thank you, D-Dad,” he sniffled, a small smile finally appearing on his worn out face. “Th-ank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i totally didn't get the idea to write this because i was having a crisis while listening to "Light" by Sleeping At Last on loop for an entire night  
> and no i definitely did not almost cry serveral times while writing this and needed to take a break or two
> 
> this is my angst fix for the day and i am terribly sorry if i made you cry  
> this was somewhat rushed ngl so sorry if it's bad


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